Sun Mote Copse wonderland

Set for the 14th of December; she is on the edge of the territory investigating the scent marks.

This forest was different from the many she had passed through. Miyax was curious of course, always interested in exploration. She had found a place filled with dust and light, and even the fresh snow could barely fall between these trees. The air was thick but not humid (it was winter, that would be strange), but the snow had drifted between the trunks and now seemed to hang in the air, shining with what limited light it could pick up. The shadows created blue-tinted sections across the forest floor, and when Miyax passed through them, she felt the chill dig deep in to her flesh.

She had found more than that, though. It was a beautiful place, but there were scents here of wolf, and having learned her lesson from the last pack she had dared to cross, she did not wish to repeat her mistake. Miyax was confident in herself as she always was — yet she did not seek out the scents of these wolves, nor obnoxiously roll herself in them, desperate as she was for companionship. It was a tactic that worked in her natal pack for the many visitors; yet she had been admonished for it days ago, and the hurt from that still stung.

No, this time would be different. She hung back along the fringes of the territory this time. The no wolf land before her, the scents of many wolves and the many indicators of their claim drifting to her on the hollow wind. She tasted the cold more than anything. Miyax could not learn much about the wolves of this forest, only that they were present — and that there were more females here than males, which was an oddity she desired to explore.

The woman canted her head back, finally, and raised an eerie call: I am here, where are you? And then turned her attention to her surroundings, wondering if she would hear a reply first, or be met with teeth instead.